Chapter Seventeen: Shallow Man

Sarah and Toby were left in the charge of Ludo and a large, grim-faced, club-wielding Goblin by the name of Septìmüs. From their vantage point in the throne room they could see across a vast expanse of the Labyrinth - and the battlements where Jareth stood. The wind had picked up, whipping his hair across his face; his polished breastplate reflected the dull crimson light of the engorged sun. It hung low in a sky streaked with dusty yellow, casting a sickly light over everything. Every now and then, Jareth would send one of his crystals across the Labyrinth and Sarah watched their progress until they passed from sight and her eyes ached with the strain of trying to follow them. She shuddered and moved from the window.

'Sawah scared?'

She dragged her hand away from the amulet at her neck. 'I'm terrified, Ludo.' Terrified for Toby, for her friends and most of all for Jareth. 'I'm glad you're not fighting, though.'

Ludo shook his head slowly. 'Jaweth not allow.' The great beast thumped himself on the chest. 'Ludo last of kind in Undergwound.'

Sarah put her hand on his arm, running her fingers through the thick russet fur. 'Oh, Ludo, I'm sorry - I had no idea.'

'Maybe others other place.' The huge shoulders raised in what looked like a shrug. 'Maybe Ludo go look someday.'

'Maybe. And we'll all help you look, okay?'

He fixed his soulful eyes on her. 'Even Jaweth?'

Sarah clamped her teeth together, finally forcing herself to speak and keep her voice level. 'Especially Jareth.' She looked back at the solitary figure on the battlements. He had released another crystal into the air and Sarah followed its direction; she recognised the path it was taking -she knew where it was going.

ooOoo

Hoggle stared at the Bog of Eternal Stench without really seeing it. It was the place he tried to avoid above all others in the Labyrinth. In his mind's eye he saw what had been before his stupidity and greed had destroyed it all. He saw the garden in all its beauty, but more than anything he saw an exquisite young woman: slim bare feet running across dew-sprinkled grass, her dark hair shining like silver, her limbs long and smooth and white as those of the beech tree whose keeper she had been. Alinúr, leader of the Dryads of the Underground, Goblin Queen. Hoggle squeezed his eyes shut. Prince of the Land of Stench, he thought bitterly.

Sir Didymus was also lost in memory - the last time this place had been a site of battle. He had been very young himself, barely more than a cub and sworn into the service of the young Prince. He was supposed to have been guarding the child but had been unable to prevent Jareth from going down to the battlefield where his parents were mounting one last, desperate stand. They had seen the destruction of the garden; the rising from the depths of the earth of the foul liquid that had submerged everything. Sir Didymus had come perilously close to falling in headfirst, until Jareth had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back up again. His sense of smell had never been the same since, although he would sooner have impaled himself on his own sword than admit that to anybody.

And Jareth had seen what no one - let alone a child - should see: his mother's terrible death. Trapped in the middle of the garden and with yet more of their enemies entering through the portal, there had been no time for Alinúr to escape.

The young Jareth had been too distraught to hear the promise that Sir Didymus had made him then - that never again would any intruder be allowed through that place. He had kept to his word and his duty ever since.

An unusually large eruption from the surface caused them to tense; they watched it suspiciously, Sir Didymus' fur bristling but when nothing followed they relaxed their guard. Slightly.

'I 'ate waiting,' Hoggle commented.

'You'll hate what's coming even more.' Ambrosius barely looked at the dwarf - he was watching the crystal that drew ever nearer, reaching to take it when it was within reach. 'The boundaries have been breached,' he stated flatly, staring into the crystal's depths. 'It's started.'

ooOoo

'There,' Rajad said quietly, his keener eyes detecting the movement before hers.

Delaine followed his gaze, squinting, and then felt her stomach contract. There were no discernible individuals in the dark mass that moved toward them - it was simply like watching an amorphous black cloud. She adjusted her helmet. Elven armour was sought after and highly prized: strong, flexible and lightweight, it allowed its wearer ease of movement and almost impregnable protection. Delaine's suit was one of the few things she had retained from her marriage.

Behind them, in serried ranks, were combined Goblin and Elf units - two races very different in custom and temperament, but in a battle situation the alliance of Elven archers and Goblin foot-soldiers was a formidable one.

'Tell the troops to hold the line until they're within range.'

'It is already done, Princess.'

It was, she reflected edgily, an unnecessary order. Börgis Khån carried with him the funk of many battles and the unspeakable trophies of past triumphs hung from his person. Captain of the Household Guard, he was not the largest of the Goblins but he was a skilled fighter and tactician. And, allegedly, an accomplished storyteller; as Delaine had never managed to get more than a handful of words out of him at any one time, she could not begin to imagine the sort of stories he would tell. The sort that would appeal to a Goblin soldier and, therefore, not the sort she would wish to hear, no doubt.

Rajad called out an order to his squadron: they reacted immediately, fitting their arrows to the bows and taking careful aim, waiting. There was always the chance that nerves would get the better of a first time warrior and they would fire before it was time; that was always something that had a detrimental effect on morale. He had selected only veterans for this battle. He glanced at Delaine out of the corner of his eyes. Her tall frame was erect, her beautiful face pale and set. She looked too fragile for the task ahead; a battle, though deeply traumatic, was one thing: the power that Delaine would have to summon during the conflict was beyond his imagining. He feared for her.

ooOoo

If Khazad had one, true face, Jareth did not know what it was. All he knew of him was darkness, and that was all he saw. The invading forces would attack along all fronts in the Underground, but Khazad himself would head directly for the castle and Jareth.

Out of all of them, Sarah had been the most distraught to learn how Khazad had gained entry to the Underground. Part of Ambrosius' plan all those years ago had been to turn her into a more responsible person - that seemed to have worked a little too well.

The weak light of the sun seemed dulled over the castle and Jareth could feel Khazad drawing closer - it was as though a skewer of cold steel had been inserted into his brain and was slowly being twisted. No matter what happened, he would remain where he was - he would not go on the offensive. The key to a good offence is a good defence. Or was it the other way around? He couldn't remember anymore. It didn't really matter. He would remain in his place, at his duty, if it killed him. Jareth managed a sardonic smile: it probably would kill him. He braced himself and allowed more of the magic of the Labyrinth to surge through him.

ooOoo

As the enemy troop came within clear view the Goblin war drums started up. Börgis let out a great, ululating cry that was taken up by his lieutenants.

'Well,' Delaine commented drily, 'I don't know about anybody else, but that war cry is enough to make me turn tail and run - and I'm on the same side.'

Rajad shifted slightly.

'Sorry - my inappropriate sense of humour strikes again. I forgot.'

'Actually, I've found myself missing it. Occasionally.'

Delaine digested this information and decided to keep it as a topic for discussion when this was over. Provided that both of them were still around.

Rajad was focused on the marching troops. 'They are within range.' He raised a hand and called out to his archers. Some of them dipped their arrow tips into the trough of flame that had been set at their feet. The first fusillade of arrows soared through the air and slammed into the first rows of the enemy.

Even from this distance, they could hear the thud of the heavy arrows hitting flesh.

The next shower of arrows took out the second-wave ranks of the opposition. Their position on the crest of the hill afforded them extra protection, for the moment. Hand-to-hand combat was inevitable. It was only a matter of time.

ooOoo

The waters of the Bog were starting to churn.

In the dense, brackish depths they could see forms moving.

Hoggle and Sir Didymus moved closer to Ambrosius, but remained resolutely staring at the hated surface. The sorcerer's lips were moving in a silent incantation. Sir Didymus could feel the hackles on the back of his neck standing on end. Hoggle clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a wave of nausea; the stench had increased in intensity in the last few minutes.

The black crows that had chosen this place as their hunting ground had deserted it hours ago - never a good sign.

There was a horrible, sucking sound from close by. A rotting hand broke through the viscous surface.

ooOoo

Delaine raised her voice and bellowed at the Goblins behind her. Their battle-chant immediately died away, only the steady drum beats still sounded. She nodded at Börgis. He drew a jagged, black-bladed scimitar and yelled out the order to charge.

The Goblin hordes swarmed down the hillside. From the shelter of the woodland either side of Khazad's advancing armies came battalions of Centaurs. The enemy was momentarily confused by this three-pronged attack, and that confusion was all they needed to inflict as much damage as possible.

Delaine watched the carnage, scarcely able to breath. Their opponents were suffering the heaviest losses, but she could see where some of her troops - her people - had fallen. She should be down there with them.

'Getting yourself killed won't help anyone at the moment.' Rajad's voice sounded unusually harsh; he had placed a restraining hand on her arm.

'That rather implies that it will help someone later on,' she countered half-heartedly.

'Delaine!'

A harsh, piercing sound rent the air. Reinforcements had arrived in the valley below them.

'Flatland Elves!' Rajad spat contemptuously. 'Vermin.' There was a scrape of metal as he drew his sword.

'And here was me thinking you're all brothers under the skin,' Delaine murmured. Her heart was beating erratically - Jareth's strength was being drained. She shook her head vigourously to clear it.

ooOoo

The pain was indescribable. Jareth managed to hold himself up, but only just. Everything he had, everything he was, was slowly being ripped away and soon there would be nothing. The last of his strength would be expended on protecting the Labyrinth and he still wasn't sure that it would be enough.

'They were right all along, Jareth. The mortals are your downfall.'

His enemy's voice came from the black cloud that was enveloping him. Jareth mustered himself and aimed a crystal at the approaching mass and for a moment the light it contained provided a barrier. But it was a feeble effort, he thought wryly; the fragile glass shattered and the illumination was absorbed into darkness.

'Give in.'

'It isn't over yet, Khazad.' He forced himself to speak clearly, throwing his head back and drawing his proud frame up to its full height. He was still the ruler of this land, still the king.

'You place a great deal of faith in that mortal girl, Jareth. It will a pleasure taking her.'

'You can't have her.'

He could hear Khazad's laughter - it was like nails scraping down a board. 'I very nearly did.'

'Nearly,' Jareth repeated mockingly. 'Nearly isn't really good enough, is it?'

The pain increased and he nearly doubled over.

'You will bow to me.'

'Not in this lifetime.'

His vision was blurred. He could still feel his sister's spirit - her courage was, as it always had been, greater than her fear. As was the way with siblings, he had always spent more time teasing her than he had telling her how much she meant to him. She would know, surely: she seemed to know everything else about him. He could feel all of them: Delaine's strength, Ambrosius' steely determination, Toby's confusion - and the agonising stab that was Sarah. While she held the power of the Labyrinth, a part of him would always be with her. It was the only consoling thought he had.

Jareth forced his eyes open; he was staring directly down at the paving stones beneath his feet. There were dark red splotches. Blood. His own blood. He laughed in surprise. There was no wound he was aware of, but there was a terrible amount of pain. More blood splashed onto the stones and the churning darkness at the edges of his vision was rushing inwards. He couldn't hold it back anymore.

He fell.

ooOoo

'We have to go.' Sarah managed to take hold of Toby's hand. Her own were numb and she had to look down to make sure that she actually had hold of him. He wrenched himself out of her grasp.

'We can't! Jareth's hurt - we can't just leave him!'

'Toby, we have to. He-he made me promise. This is what he wanted.' She couldn't breath. A family of rats seemed to have taken up residence in her chest and were clawing at each other, choking her until she thought she would go mad. 'If Khazad finds us - if he finds me - he'll force me to give up the power Jareth gave me.'

The little blonde stared at her. 'But Jareth said he couldn't do that. That's why Khazad had to trick you.'

'Ambrosius said-'

'I don't care what Ambrosius said! Jareth told me Khazad couldn't force you to do anything.'

Septìmüs had grabbed hold of her and was, none too respectfully, marshalling her towards the door. The door back to the Aboveground, back home. She dug her heels into the floor, like a child, sending both of them stumbling. Sarah heard the Goblin cursing and, with more desperation than skill, swung around and twisted herself out of his arms. She rounded on Toby. 'What exactly did Jareth say?'

'He...' The first night he had been in the Underground; Jareth had been explaining it all to him... 'He said that you had to choose to give Khazad the power and ... and... you had to be happy about doing it. With joy in your heart! That's what he said, Sarah!' His eyes shone with triumph. 'That's exactly what he said.'

Septìmüs made another lunge for her and Sarah danced out of his way. She called appealingly to Ludo; her old friend had been standing aside watching the little drama unfold. He hesitated momentarily and then swept both Septìmüs and Toby up in his arms, pinning them to his chest.

'Hey!' Toby yelled indignantly. 'Sarah, tell him to let me go!'

Sarah ignored her brother's insistent demands. Her mind was racing. Who was right - Ambrosius or Jareth? The sorcerer or the King? She had to trust one of them, but the wrong decision could mean the end of the Labyrinth. Sarah grasped the edge of the window-sill, her eyes barely able to make out the fallen, crumpled form on the battlements. He was surrounded by dancing shadows.

Again she saw the image of the injured owl.

A little piece of the Labyrinth would live with her. What good was that if its ruler was gone?

'It isn't that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me...'

Of course she hadn't appreciated it. She hadn't understood any of it, so how could she appreciate it? Or him? All he had done was love her and she had hurt him terribly. He had given her so much over the years and she had not realised it.

Something within her fell into place.

Perhaps it was time to give something back.

The winding corridors down to the battlements would take too long. She scrambled calmly onto the window-sill. Toby's cries of encouragement turned to ones of horror.

A leap of faith.

Sarah threw herself forward; she fell sickeningly for a moment and then felt wings - hers - clawing at the air. Her flight was erratic at best, but it took only seconds to reach him. She landed heavily, tripping over her feet and stumbled to the ground next to him. Sarah turned him over: his eyes stared sightlessly, a trickle of blood ran from one corner of his mouth. Sarah used the hem of her dress to wipe his cold face, the grey silk immediately stained with crimson. She tried to locate a pulse but her shaking fingers could find nothing.

'Jareth... Jareth, please. You have to come back. Please, come back to me.'

She heard a low, jeering laugh and a shadow fell across her. Sarah looked up at the figure standing over them. The mismatched eyes were cold, the handsome face distorted. He didn't smile so much as bare his teeth at her.

'Hello again, Sarah.'

To be continued...